A Different Kind of Game
by hunterpleasure
Summary: The rebel in the leather jacket was his hero. All he ever wanted was to meet the guy who brought him back to life. What happens when a business opportunity comes his way and he meets corporate Triple H? Would he play the game or break the rules? Can the king of kings heal the wounds in his heart?
1. Chapter 1

******It's all about the GAME and how you play it! ****The rebel in the leather jacket. **I miss that guy.

**This is a first time for me**. I usually just read, because I love this site, and there are such talented writers here, so I decided, after years of reading, to write one and see if I can do it.

It starts a little slow, but it gets better when **The Game** shows up.

I know it's probably not the best time for Triple H stories, with the current storyline and all, but I can't help it, **I love him,** no matter what he wears or how he acts.

I guess I'm supposed to say that I do NOT own Triple H's character, so I don't own any wrestling character.

Special thanks to DrunkOnJerichohol.

Rated M, for language and future sexual content.

**- POSSIBLE SLASH -**

* * *

**A Different Kind of Game**

Chapter 1

As I lifted my eyes from the document on the desk to look at the time, I realized I wasn't really focused anymore. It's been a long day, meeting after meeting, and a stacked pile of paper work that was just begging to be shredded.

Looking outside through my office window, I sighed. The peaceful waters of the Nike Lake, and the reflection of the trees surrounding it, always made me feel at ease at the end of the day.

It's been a long day: one that, for sure, should end on my porch with a cigarette and my good friend, Jack Daniels.

After switching my computer off, I grabbed my briefcase and headed out.

"Quitting on me already?" I heard a tender voice ask.

As I recognized the voice, I turned to find my boss walking towards me. "It's been a long day and too much paper work," I shrugged.

"Can I sneak with you in the back and have some before you leave?" she asked, with a cute pout.

"Sure, can't have an unhappy boss, now can I?" I replied and gestured toward the emergency exit, where no one would find us.

After leaving a small gap for the door to stay open, I turned to find her just inches from my face.

"Give it to me," she ordered. "I need it."

The pack was in my hands by the time she finished the sentence.

"Light me up, handsome," she pleaded.

"If your husband only knew I was smuggling cigarettes for you, he would kill us both. You know that, right?" I smiled.

"I know," she answered, inhaling on that forbidden fruit, "but…" she smiled back, "he would probably just kill you and divorce me. I gave him two gorgeous kids." She smiled smugly.

"That's so nice of you to think of yourself and throw me to the lions."

"Don't be such a coward, he will never find out; I never kiss and tell," she flirted.

"Knowing your husband, he would probably prefer us having an affair than smoking together."

"Only way to find out is if you ask me." She winked at me.

"Don't wink at me. I don't do married women, you know."

"Relax, I'm just messing with you," she said, amused.

"Don't I know it," I smiled. It was the Emily I've known and loved since I was sixteen. When I first met her, she was fun and flirty, but most of all, she was kind and protective, like mothers are. She was the kind of boss you only hear of but never actually get to work with.

"Hey," she startled me, "I heard something today that might interest you."

"Oh yeah, what did you hear?" I said, while sucking on the cigarette between her fingers.

"I heard WWE is interested in working with us." She looked at me, trying not to miss my reaction.

"What? When did this happen?!" I tried not to squeal.

"Calm down," she hushed. "I don't know too much, just that they have a meeting at WWE headquarters next week."

"A meeting with who?"

"Too much info, don't know. You should ask Robert. They're sending him."

"They are sending Robert? The man doesn't even like wrestling," I grumbled.

"I tried to tell David, but he didn't listen."

"Can I go with Robert?" I nearly begged.

She smiled and sighed.

"Tell me!" I urged her.

She lifted her finger and, with her seductive eyes, gestured to come close.

I did, and she approached my ear slowly and whispered "Do you honestly think I wouldn't take care of my golden boy and my supplier?"

"What did you do?" I questioned.

"I bought you a place on that meeting."

"How did you do that?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well, you know Robert has a thing for me." She brushed her hair aside and smiled.

"Emily," I gave her a hard stare.

"Don't be upset, I just flirted with the guy; no harm, no foul."

"And if he tells David? This guy is not exactly discreet."

"David knows me, he knows how I feel about you, and he knows I take good care of my staff."

"Oh my God, I can't believe it…this is huge."

"I know 'happy' is not on your vocabulary, golden boy, but are you at least close?"

"Emily, don't call me that! And, yes, I'm close enough."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." She opened the door and headed out back to the hallway. "Who's Paul Levesque, by the way?"

"Whaaa…what did you just say?" I grabbed her arm and closed the door.

"Oh, stop it…" she smiled. "I Googled him. I know he's the guy in that picture you keep in your office."

"Is he going to be in the meeting?"

"Are you sweating, darling?" she asked with amusement.

"Don't play games with me, Em!"

"Now why would I play games with you, when you clearly don't have a thing for me? It would be a waste of good flirt."

"Is he really going to be at the meeting?" my heart missed a beat.

"Why the hell do you think I pushed for you to go with Robert? As soon as I Googled that guy, I knew I had to do something. Isn't he, like, something big there?"

"The biggest," I nodded in agreement.

"See," she kissed me on the cheek, "I take good care of you, kid."

"Don't call me kid!" I exclaimed. "And…thank you, Emily. I will never forget this."

"I know you won't. I'm counting on it."

"Don't push it," I smiled. "I'm out of here. See you in the morning, boss."

"Goodnight, kid," she said, walking away.

"Don't call m…" She was gone before I could finish the sentence.

I smiled to myself as I walked out of the building, with only one thing on my mind.

I was going to meet him.

* * *

**Reviews, criticism and suggestions would be much appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

******It's all about the GAME and how you play it! ****The rebel in the leather jacket. **I miss that guy.

**This is a first time for me**. I usually just read, because I love this site, and there are such talented writers here, so I decided, after years of reading, to write one and see if I can do it.

It starts a little slow, but it gets better when **The Game** shows up.

I know it's probably not the best time for Triple H stories, with the current storyline and all, but I can't help it, **I love him,** no matter what he wears or how he acts.

I guess I'm supposed to say that I do NOT own Triple H's character, so I don't own any wrestling character.

Special thanks to DrunkOnJerichohol.

Rated M, for language and future sexual content.

**- POSSIBLE SLASH -**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The lowball glass in my weak hand was empty as I felt it slip between my fingers and hit the carpeted floor. Hunter, my faithful dog, rushed to my side and started licking my face. Every night, he would lie in the corner, waiting for me to fade, before he would wake me up and send me to bed.

It was nights like this when I felt the hole inside my aching heart getting bigger and deeper, as the cool breeze would take me on a trip to a time when everything was perfect in my life.

Yes, I was alive, I was breathing, but every breath I took was painful, every fiber of my being screamed with misery. Yes, I was successful, in anyone's eye. I was a golden boy, a rising star who turned everything he touched to gold. No, I wasn't happy. I wasn't even content. When you ask someone, anyone, about their goals in life, most of them would say: career, success, family. I had everything… that I didn't care for.

My goal was to just stay alive, as painful as it was. Sure, I could end it, but it would be the easy way out, and after what happened, I needed to feel the pain. It was my fault, my mess, my life. I was alone. It was a choice I made years ago; opening up to someone wasn't even an option. It was the look in their eyes that I wanted to avoid, those sad eyes and the sympathetic expression tore my heart every time.

When my boss said his name today, I felt a flash of hope shoot through my veins. Something good finally comes my way. I felt good, and then I was terrified. Meeting him was a 15-year-old dream that I've kept hidden.

When you tell people your hero is Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, or even Michael Jordan, they smile and they understand, but when the answer to that question is Triple H, people tend to look at you funny.

As I sat up on the couch, thanking my dog for being my good friend as always, I started thinking about that meeting: about coming face-to-face with my idol, about all the great moments I shared with him throughout his career, about how he will probably never know that he made me smile when everything around me was falling apart. Just to shake his hand would mean the world to me.

I'm 30 years old. I went to every WrestleMania for the past five years. I watched him battle Cena, Orton, Sheamus and Undertaker, twice. With the thought of The Undertaker and Triple H standing on the top of the ramp with Shawn, I put my head on the pillow and drifted off.

Another day had gone by.

The morning came with the sun, trying to sneak in between the curtains. Every morning was the same: the shower, the walk with Hunter, the cab ride to work. My regular coffee was already waiting for me as I made my way across the street to the coffee cart outside the complex, and just like every day, I smoked my first cigarette of the day near the edge of the lake.

Working for Nike was a dream job; no one could deny it. Standing there in my suit and tie, I sighed. It wasn't me, but it was my life now. I was promoted to a new role last year. After working there for five years, it was as close to a family as it could get. Some of the people here have known me for half of my life. They gave me opportunities, they helped, and they took care of me when I needed them. Emily, my boss, was one of those people.

I met her when I was 16. I remember that I liked her from the start. As the years went by, it was pretty clear that I was in good hands. She gave me my first job, an opportunity to work for the greatest sports company in the world. She took me under her wing and taught me everything I know.

When she was promoted to her new executive role, she used her connections in the company **—**her husband David, who had an even bigger title than her **—**to make me her assistant. They were our power couple in the company. They met here, worked together, fell in love and ended up married, with two boys.

As I was thinking about how funny love could be and how it could find and hit you when you least expect it to, I noticed the Nike power couple walking in my direction as I finished my cigarette.

"Good morning, Joe," David Ashburn called.

"Good morning, sir," I replied and shook his hand.

"Good morning, golden boy," she teased, and I smiled shyly.

"Joe, I heard you were a big wrestling fan. Emily says you watched ever since you were a kid."

"Yes, sir, I'm a big fan."

"Well, your knowledge of the wrestling world could very well be an advantage for us in that meeting next week. I have faith in you, my wife speaks highly of you every chance she gets and, quite frankly, your projects speak for themselves. You're a very talented young man."

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate that."

"Yes, you were never a good small talker, but that's okay. Have a good day."

"You too, sir, good day."

"I'll see you later, darling. I need to discuss something with Joe," Emily said to her husband as he walked away. David waved and walked into the building.

"Is everything okay with you this morning?" she asked, looking for my evasive eyes.

"I'm okay, just excited about next week."

"Don't worry, kid. You're going to impress him. I'm sure of it."

"I'm not sure at all. I've been waiting to meet him for a very long time, and I just hope my words don't fail me."

"Wow, I know you keep a picture of him in your office, but I had no idea it was that big of a crush…"

"It's not a crush. I don't want to marry the guy…he's just…well…not him…his character…well…" I struggled.

"Oh, for crying out loud…" She rolled her eyes. "I get it; he's your idol."

"Well, yeah, you could say that."

"You know, I did some reading about this guy when I got home last night, and apparently his character is quite the rebel. Does he really like to hit people with sledgehammers?"

"Yeah." I smiled as I pictured him staring at the sledgehammer, crowd roaring at the sight. "He does." It was the best thing about him.

"How does that even work? Fake or not, it's still a sledgehammer…"

"He is just that damn good," I announced, as I quoted him.

"That damn good…looking, you mean," she teased, trying to get my attention.

"Do you honestly think I care about his looks?"

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm not gay, Emily!"

"I'm just teasing, so chill. I'm just glad you get to meet him and that you owe me now. Come on, we have that Wimbledon dress code to deal with today. Every year, the same restriction: only white clothes. These people live in the 1920's. It's the 21st century. Don't they know that in England?"

"It's tradition, Emily. It's what separates them from other tennis tournaments."

"I don't care." She smiled and led me, by the hand, into the building. "One of these days, you will understand that it's stupid to play a game in white clothes."

"It's called the white sport, Emily. That name didn't invent itself."

"The only time I ever put on something white was on my wedding day, and I messed up the dress before he even said 'I do', " she joked.

"You are impossible," I surrendered. "Let me deal with the dress codes and just sign it when I'm done approving the catalogue."

As the days went by, and the date for the meeting came close, my excitement turned into anxiety. What if I embarrass myself? What if he asks me something and I choke? I couldn't share my fears and doubts with Emily, because I was afraid she'd think I wasn't the right man for this.

I needed this deal; I needed to meet him. He was all I could think of, the moment when I come face-to-face with him and shake his hand. Emily, on her part, knew something was wrong with me, but she was being her usual flirty self and kept sneaking out back for a cigarette and asking me to tell her wrestling stories. She says that when I talk about wrestling and about him, I almost look happy.

Everyone at Nike knows my story. Every single one of them read about it at some point, thanks to that damn internet. They all look at me like a man who rose from the ashes and made a life for himself, in spite of what happened. I hated that everybody knew. They all try to hide it, but I can feel it in their tone of voice and on their looks. Every time people watch a big tennis match at the office, I can feel them staring at me with a sad look in their eyes.

Those are the days when I wish I could turn back time. Those are also the days when I go home and put on a random DVD to watch him wrestle. He brought me back to life. He always made me feel better.

Thursday came, and I met up with Robert at the airport. I liked Robert. He was one of a few people in the office that treated me with no composure. He wanted me to be tough, and he never felt sorry for me. I always appreciated that.

Robert was a veteran in the company, but some say he lost his passion. That's why, in recent years, he never negotiated alone. Nike always sent someone else with him. The flight to Connecticut was nerve-racking. What was I going to say when I finally met him?

I just prayed I wasn't going to embarrass myself.

* * *

**The king of kings is finally here, next...**

******Reviews, criticism and suggestions would be much appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

******Corporate Triple H is here. **

******It's all about the GAME and how you play it! ****The rebel in the leather jacket. **I miss that guy.

**This is a first time for me**. I usually just read, because I love this site, and there are such talented writers here, so I decided, after years of reading, to write one and see if I can do it.

I know it's probably not the best time for Triple H stories, with the current storyline and all, but I can't help it, **I love him,** no matter what he wears or how he acts.

I guess I'm supposed to say that I do NOT own Triple H's character, so I don't own any wrestling character.

Special thanks to DrunkOnJerichohol.

Rated M, for language and future sexual content.

**- POSSIBLE SLASH -**

* * *

_**Chapter**__**3**_

Robert and I arrived at WWE headquarters, ten minutes earlier. The front desk confirmed our 15:00 meeting and directed us to the elevators, after giving us visitor tags. I was starting to sweat and cursed the day I took a job that required suits. I would've been more than fine with just jeans and a Nike t-shirt, but I had to wear suits for a living. The elevator doors opened, and as we stepped out, I noticed him at the end of the hall, speaking to someone.

My knees were weak, I could barely stand, I felt that my mouth was dry, and I had no voice. For 15 years, I watched him every week, whether he was the blue blood snob, the juvenile prick in DX, or the crazy SOB in Evolution. I didn't care if he was face or heel, I just wanted him to win. Now, he stood right in front of me, and I couldn't even remember my own name. I watched as he passed us in the hallway and went into his office.

We waited, not sure for how long. It seemed like forever, until his secretary said, "Mr. Levesque is ready for you."

Robert thanked her as we walked in. _Please don't forget your own name_, I repeated to myself.

"Gentlemen, thank you for coming. Paul Levesque," he introduced himself.

"Robert Taylor." They shook hands, and he turned to look at me. I cleared my throat and said, "Joe Astor."

"What's the matter?" he shook my hand. "You didn't eat breakfast today?"

I smiled.

"Have a seat, please!" he requested, in his husky law voice. We did, like we were kids sent to the principal's office. His presence was intimidating, but his voice was soft and pleasant.

When he sat across from us, he smiled politely. He had a different side to him, I thought to myself. Corporate Triple H, it had a nice ring to it. It was hard to believe that this man's alter ego was a heartless SOB, who didn't care what people thought about him.

The meeting started with Paul talking about a big project he was working on: one that required sportswear for about 50 athletes, men and women. He didn't give too many details, just that it was in Florida, and that he thought a big company like Nike would benefit from this deal.

They talked about sponsorship and publicity. Robert did all the talking, and I was just making sure I wasn't sweating badly. Halfway through the meeting, my phone rang, and the sounds of Triple H's song filled the room. I apologized and asked for a minute. He smiled and nodded in approval.

"Emily," I answered.

"How was the meeting, golden boy?"

"It's happening now," I muttered, as I squeezed myself into a little corner I found outside his office.

"Oh my God, and you didn't switch your phone off?" she giggled.

"It's not funny! I forgot…I was too nervous," I whispered.

"I'm sorry, darling. Are you breathing heavily?"

"Emily, I'm dying here. This was a mistake, and I shouldn't have come."

"Oh, stop it. I'm sure you're doing just fine."

"I haven't said a word except my name…pretty sure I got that one right."

"I'm sure you are overreacting. Just compliment him on his career, and say something clever," she tried.

"I don't have anything clever to say. This is so embarrassing. Robert is boring him to death with numbers, and I can't say anything," I struggled.

"First of all, you need to focus and then you have to stop Robert. It's way too early to talk about numbers, and Robert should know that. Listen to me, darling; I know you think the world of this guy, but this is a business meeting, and one that you have to take control of. You have done this many times, kid, so just be yourself."

"I'm going to try…"

"You'll be fine. Now go inside and talk to the guy."

"Easier said than done. I'll talk to you later."

As I walked in and sat down, he smiled at me and called his secretary.

"Please show Mr. Taylor to Peter's office," he demanded.

I stood up to follow Robert, but he said, "Not you, Mr. Astor, was it?" I nodded, and he added, "You can stay."

I sat back, wishing I had never come in the first place, as Robert left the room.

He got up and offered me a drink. I nodded my head in acceptance, and he smiled.

There were no whiskey bottles or brandy on the cabinet, just a few picture frames and a fruit bowl, which I wasn't sure were plastic or not. As he opened the mini fridge, I noticed there were only water bottles in it.

"So, Mr. Astor," he handed me a bottle, "aren't you a little young to participate in this kind of a meeting?" he asked, sitting down next to me.

Honestly, I didn't blame him for thinking that. It happened before, but I was getting tired of people judging me by my age. "It's not the years in your life that count; it's the life in your years," I replied.

"And here I thought you were a mute," he taunted.

"And I thought you would be taller."

A little grin appeared at the corner of his mouth. "So why are you here?" he inquired. "You haven't said a word, and when you finally did say something, it was Abraham Lincoln's words and not your own. Did you come here just because you are a fan? Judging by the ringtone on your phone, you are a fan."

"I am a fan, but first and foremost I represent Nike, and I was sent here for a number of reasons," I answered firmly.

"Is 'tough guy' one of them reasons?" he smiled.

"I don't know. Am I a tough guy, in your eyes?"

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm 30 years old."

"See, when I was your age, I was just starting to make a name for myself."

"With all due respect, sir, when you were my age, you took control of the company with your then-storyline wife. You were already a name in the business," I stated.

The little grin he had turned into a big smile, one that I've seen on his face so many times before, almost like it fed his ego. "Okay, you know our history, obviously a fan."

"A big fan," I corrected, with pride.

"Now, tell me, what am I supposed to think about a company that sends a washed-up business man who has no negotiation skills that almost bored me to death, and a kid that looks like he's not old enough to even vote?"

"Most of our assumptions have outlived their uselessness."

"Did you memorize the top 10 best quotes or something?" He looked annoyed.

"I just know stuff," I shrugged.

"You know stuff?" he scoffed.

"I have a photographic memory, I'm sorry. I just remember useless stuff sometimes."

"I think I should just move onto Under Armour for a sponsorship."

"I'll tell you what you shouldn't do: you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, and you should look past the kid and be cerebral."

"Be cerebral, ha…" he scratched his beard and smiled."Be cerebral about what?"

"About the kid sitting across from you."

"You admit you're just a kid?" he asked smugly.

"There's nothing I can do about my age."

"Okay, give me one good reason why I should even listen to you."

"Because I'm here on behalf of the greatest sports company in the world."

"That's not a reason. Why should I listen to you?" he pointed at me.

"Because I managed to get where I am at such a young age," I tried.

"Again, not a reason," he claimed. "I don't know your official role in the company, so that doesn't impress me. What else you got?" he provoked.

"I'm here, aren't I?" I leaned toward him and looked straight into his eyes. "Do you think a big name like Nike would risk a possible sponsorship with a billion dollar corporation by sending an incompetent man?"

"Well, they did send someone that almost put me to sleep, and please don't refer to yourself as a man," he indicated.

"Man or kid, I am here."

"You sure are confident."

"Well, I'm also very experienced, and I can tell just by looking at you that you are intrigued."

"I'm a very good actor."

"Yes, you are, but still, I know I can get you the deal you are looking for. You know that I am a fan, and I know what you need. That being said, nothing would make me more proud than to take the two things I love the most and join them together."

"And by two things you love the most, you mean me and Nike?" he teased.

"I mean WWE and Nike."

"Not bad." He smiled and stood up.

"I'm very good at what I do."

"Time will tell." He leaned on his desk.

"Question is, are you willing to look past the age and give me a chance?"

"If you make a believer out of me, I'll sign the deal when the time comes."

"How much time have I got?"

"I'll tell you what; I'm willing to give you a chance. You're going to stay in town for the weekend as my guest, and we'll send Mr. Boring back to Oregon."

"Just like that…?" I tried not to look too excited.

"Just like that," he repeated, with a smile.

"Deal!" I got up and stood in front of him.

"Don't you need to run this by your boss first?"

"I know you don't see it, but I hardly ever ask for permission to do what's good for business."

"Bad boy, aren't you?" he took a step toward me.

"I learned from the best."

"And who might that be?" He locked eyes with me.

"Just a guy, you might know him. His name is Triple H." I smiled and took the phone out of my pocket.

_Just compliment him on his career…good one, E_m, I thought, excusing myself to make a phone call.

"So who are you calling?"

"My boss," I replied.

"So much for a bad boy," he muttered.

"I'm just going to ask her to take care of my dog, while I'm here trying to make a believer out of you."

"Your boss is going to take care of your dog?"

"Her kids love the dog, and they will be ecstatic when they see him."

His expression changed. I could tell by the lines on his face that he was less serious now. He liked me. I was in Triple H's office, working that magic Emily was always bragging about. I felt alive again. After I updated Emily, I went back inside, and he greeted me with a polite smile.

"All set," I said. "Now, if you could just recommend a nice hotel…"

"There's nice, and there's _nice_. How much does your boss like you?"

"She likes me very much, but I have simple needs. I don't really care for luxuries."

"So, something simple…"

"Would be great," I continued. "Also, I need a good place to buy some clothes for the weekend."

"A simple place?"

"Depends on what you have in store for me during this weekend."

"Okay, I'll take you to buy some clothes, and I'll have my secretary arrange for a hotel reservation."

"You don't have to do that. I've been shopping for my own clothes since I was 14. I'm a big boy, I think I can handle it," I winked, which seemed to annoy him.

"Okay, I'll tell you what; since you think yourself to be such a hotshot, I'm not going to help you, even though you are my guest. Let's see how well you do in a town you don't know. It's almost 4 PM. Find a hotel, buy clothes, and meet me at 7 PM for dinner, at this address."

He closed the gap between us and handed me a small piece of paper with an address.

"You should know, I've never failed a test," I bragged.

"Ever?"

"Not one that I can remember."

"There's always a first time, and you are so young," he teased.

"Okay, how can I explain it in a way that you could understand?" I paused and sighed.

Our faces were inches away, and he smiled. "I'm listening…"

"I am that damn good!" He opened his mouth to reply, but a knock on the door surprised us both.

He cleared his throat and answered the door.

"Mr. Levesque," Robert came in, "I've arranged for a second meeting in Oregon. I'm looking forward to discussing the details of your project and your expectations with Nike."

Paul shook his hand and said, "I'm looking forward as well."

"Have a nice weekend. We'll be leaving now."

I signaled to Paul that I would see him later and walked out with Robert. When we exited the building, I explained to him that Paul asked me to stay and talk some more during the weekend. Robert smiled. "You never cease to amaze me, young man."

"It means a lot, coming from you, Robert. Thank you."

"Go get us that deal, Joe. You'll do great for sure."

"Thank you. Have a safe flight home."

I hailed a cab and waved goodbye as it drove away.

_Okay, Joe: hotel, clothes, and dinner. You can do it, three hours is more than enough time. Triple H, here I come_, I said to myself as I started looking for hotels on my iPhone.

* * *

**Reviews, criticism and suggestions would be much appreciated.**


	4. Chapter 4

**The rebel in the leather jacket. I miss that guy.**

**It's all about the GAME and how you play it!**

I know it's probably not the best time for Triple H stories, with the current storyline and all, but I can't help it, **I love him,** no matter what he wears or how he acts.

I guess I'm supposed to say that I do NOT own Triple H's character, so I don't own any wrestling character.

Special thanks to DrunkOnJerichohol.

Rated M, for language and future sexual content.

**- POSSIBLE SLASH -**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

I arrived at The Red Barn Restaurant a quarter to 7 PM. I found a quiet corner and lit up a cigarette. I couldn't wait to see him and talk to him again. I was so nervous about today that the outcome still felt surreal. He was giving me an opportunity for the greatest deal I could ever say I was part of. He knew what it meant to me, I could see it in his eyes. He wanted me to make a believer out of him.

I called Emily and told her everything that led to this dinner. I was going to take this opportunity and make the best out of it. Failing was never an option. I was going to make him sign the deal. I was going to make him like me even more. He was my hero, and he didn't even know how big a part of my life he had been. Maybe one day I would get the opportunity to tell him that it was his story, his injury battle, that made me rise up from the abyss I fell into.

Maybe, one day.

Suddenly, I felt the cigarette being yanked from my lips and watched as it hit the ground. "That shit's bad for you," he said, as he stepped on it.

"Hi," I managed to say, when I came back to earth.

The famous rebel in the leather jacket and that devilish smile, who I tried to imitate when I was younger, was standing in front of me. It all still felt like a dream **—**one that I never thought would come true.

His giant figure stood over me, with his hands in his jacket, "Hi, yourself. Glad to see you stick to the schedule. Did you check into a hotel?"

"Of course I did," I answered, like a kid waiting for his trophy.

"Good. Where are you staying?"

"The Doubletree Hotel. Do you know it?"

"I know where it is, nice choice. Now, I know this wasn't on the list, but did you rent a car?"

"No, didn't need to. I don't drive," I said, as I checked the time.

"What do you mean you don't drive? As in, don't have a license?" He looks confused.

"I just don't drive, that's all," I said and tried to change the subject. "Shall we go inside?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't ask more questions.

"Um, okay, after you, tough guy."

As we were escorted to our table, Paul looked at me and said, "By the way, that smoking thing, that's one step further from making a believer out of me."

"Well, I guess I have to work harder now."

"I'm not an easy guy to impress," he said as we were sitting down.

"Yet, I'm here at dinner with you, and you just met me four hours ago." I smiled smugly. "I guess I'm doing something right."

"Is there anything you don't have an answer for?"

"Keep asking questions and you'll find out."

"So far, you've gone from being a tough guy, to a bad boy, to a smart ass. That doesn't look too good."

"But you like me, I can tell…"

He shrugged, "So tell me, how long have you worked for Nike?"

"About 6 years," I answered.

"And your official role is?"

"I am an Executive Assistant of Talent Relations, in the tennis division."

"That's a big title, bigger than mine. When did you start this role?"

"I got promoted a year ago," I said proudly.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, but you asked. I was comfortable with the job I had, but they offered and I love my boss, so I said yes."

"Is she the one you had to sleep with to get there?" he smirked.

"I didn't sleep my way to this role; I worked very hard to get to where I am."

"I'm sure you did," he mocked.

"I understand, though, why you would think that. I know I look like a million bucks."

"Aren't we full of ourselves tonight?"

"What?" I grinned. "I know I look good, and I'm sure you've noticed."

"Just to make it clear, I don't tend to notice other men's looks."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that!" we both said at the same time and started laughing.

"I loved it when you and Shawn use to say that on the DX promos, it was hilarious."

"Yeah, I mean, we had to say it, but it sure was funny."

"By the way," I managed to control my laughter and say, "not that there's anything wrong with that, but…I'm not gay."

"Hey, fine by me, either way. So, you were saying that you didn't sleep with your boss, even with your looks and your charm? I added that, but you still moved up pretty fast. How would you explain this to someone that just met you and thinks you're just a kid?"

"Have I mentioned that I am that damn good?"

"Yeah, you have. Have I mentioned that this is gimmick infringement and I can sue you for stealing my lines?"

"I'm only borrowing it!"

"God, you are such a smart ass. There's nothing you don't have an answer for."

"I told you you'd find out if you kept asking questions."

"Are you always this cocky?"

"I'm sorry. I just…never mind. Do you know what you're having?"

"Wait just a minute, you were going to say something. What was it?"

"I thought I did. I asked if you know what you're having for dinner."

"Come on, just say it, don't 'never mind' me. I hate that."

"Forget it. It's stupid, really…Let's just order."

"I'm not ordering anything until you speak!"

"Okay, look, it's stupid. I just…I waited almost half of my life to meet you, that's all, and I can't believe I'm having dinner with you. I mean, I almost went to Access once, but I was too nervous, and now we're here and…it's stupid. I told you, it's stupid…"

"First of all, if you say 'stupid' one more time, I'm going to hit you. Second of all, we're here, so just enjoy it and be yourself. Don't try to impress me. You already did that, hence the second meeting."

"Okay, I'll try." I smiled shyly and asked, "So, what's good here?"

"The steak is good."

"I think I'll go with the New York Sirloin."

"You ask me to recommend something, and you pick something else. That's smart."

"Am I supposed to obey your every word? Are we in storyline, king of kings?"

"I'm not getting dragged into this conversation with you, but, since you've asked for a recommendation on the menu, it's just polite that you order it. Don't you think so?"

"No, I don't, but I'll order the damn steak now, just to get you to stop lecturing."

Silence filled the air for a few seconds, and I was sure he was going to hit me in the face for being rude to him, but then he burst into laughter. I smiled at him, and he said, "I don't know why I would get so irritated. It's just a damn steak."

I laughed, "I swear I was going to ask if you're married to the steak."

"Let's just order. You are impossible."

Dinner went by quickly. We talked about how I started to work for Nike, as a scout for young talent. I told him about how three of my signings were becoming stars and made a lot of money for us, and that's when my boss decided to mentor me. He listened, like I always wanted my parents to listen, and for the life of me, I couldn't understand why he would even take the time to ask questions and listen.

It felt good to share all those things with him; this great guy was all I imagined he would be. If he only knew what he meant to me, if he only knew how much of an inspiration he was in my life, after what happened. He paid the check, after giving me a scary look when I reached for my wallet, but allowed me to leave a tip. As we were walking out of the restaurant, he offered to give me a ride to the hotel.

"You don't have to do that, Mr. Levesque. I'll just get a taxi…that's okay."

"No, really, I don't mind, and stop with the mister thing. Just call me Paul. Come on, I'm parked over there," he started walking to his car.

"Really, Paul, I appreciate it, but I'm fine."

"Okay, is there something you want to tell me, because I'm getting a weird vibe from you right now?"

"I just don't like cars. That's all."

"And a taxi is a spaceship, got it."

"I sit in the back of a taxi, and I prefer it that way."

"If you prefer the back seat, that's fine. I would love to hear the story behind this someday," he said, as we walked to the parking lot.

"I doubt that I would ever tell you, but it's nice to have goals in life," I teased him.

He put his hand over my shoulder and choked me lightly, "You are such a smart ass."

I tried to free myself, but his grip was too tight. "Now if you resist, it's just going to hurt more, you know," he laughed.

"Okay, I give up," I managed to let out.

"Good boy. Let me just take out my kids' seat so you can get in."

"I'll just wait out here and have a cigarette."

"I swear if you light that thing near me, I'm making you walk to the hotel."

"Was that a threat?"

"More like…no, that's a threat, alright."

"Got you, no smoking when you're around."

"You can be a good boy when you want, that's nice to know."

"I'm not being a good boy. I'm actually scared right now."

"Here you go, back seat is ready for you."

"Thanks."

The ride to the hotel was very quiet. I felt the tension, and I knew he wanted to ask me about why I prefer the back seat. I was relieved when he didn't.

When I got out of the car, he opened the window, and I approached it. "Tomorrow, my office, 13:30, don't be late."

"I won't. Goodnight, sir. Thank you for dinner and everything."

"Goodnight, kid."

"Don't ca…" I tried, as he drove away.

"Why does everyone call me kid? I hate that!" I muttered to myself as I walked in the hotel.

* * *

**Reviews, criticism and suggestions would be much appreciated.**


	5. Chapter 5

**It's all about the GAME and how you play it!**

I know it's probably not the best time for **Triple H** stories, with the current storyline and all, but I can't help it, **I love him,** no matter what he wears or how he acts.

I guess I'm supposed to say that I do NOT own Triple H's character, so I don't own any wrestling character.

Special thanks to DrunkOnJerichohol.

Rated M, for language and future sexual content.

**- POSSIBLE SLASH -**

* * *

Chapter 5

I was his guest for the weekend, and just the sound of those words made me smile; Triple H's guest. He was impressed with me and wanted to continue discussing business. Emily's words kept ringing in my head: golden boy. Her faith in me was paying off. All I ever wanted was to make her proud.

I had a great time at dinner with him last night. He was so kind and generous toward me that I felt like I was in a dreamland. I waited 15 years for this moment, a chance to meet the guy that kept me sane and made it all go away for one night every week. He was more than I ever dreamed he would be.

I arrived at the front desk and gave the receptionist my name. After she confirmed my meeting with Paul's secretary, I went up to his office waited for him to call for me. I had a good feeling about the day. Today would be the day he gave his decision about Nike.

I walked into his office, to find him standing with his back to me, looking out the window. "Have a seat, Joe."

His voice was different, and something about it was changed. Not the pleasant and soft one from yesterday; it was quavering and distant. I sat down and said, "Hi, what's up?"

He turned to face me and his expression was serious, almost sad, if I read it right.

"Joe, first of all I want to apologize to you. I did something last night that I shouldn't have done, and I hope you can understand."

I could've sworn my heart stopped for a second. I knew it was too good to be true. I failed. "Okay. If you could just tell me what happened, maybe we could talk about it and move on."

I was confused. I searched for his eyes, but he avoided making contact. "You have to understand, I was really impressed with you, and I wanted to find out more about this guy I was going into business with." He approached me and finally looked me straight in the eyes.

I knew where this was going, and I knew what he did. It happened so many times before that I was used to it by now. I stood up, getting ready to leave. "First of all, you're getting into business with Nike, not with me, and as far as I go, if you say that you looked me up on Google, I'm going to wish you well and walk out that door!" I lashed out at him.

"Come on, Joe," he tried to explain. "I'm sorry. I didn't think I was going to find something on the internet anyway."

"But when you did… when you clicked search and found all those headlines and pictures, I guess you just had to read all about it. I'm going to leave now... Thank you, for this opportunity."

"Joe, wait a second!" He grabbed my hand.

"Why should I?" I turned to look at him. "So I can see how sorry you feel for me? No thanks, I don't need your pity. I worked really hard to make a name for myself, despite this thing hovering over me like a black shadow…I don't want you to look at me like this."

"How am I looking at you?" He released his grip.

"Like you're waiting for me to fall apart, like you feel my pain…"

"That's not true! I'm sorry, what you did is amazing, and what you've become is amazing, in all eyes. I admire you for not using your tragedy to make it in this world."

"Don't talk to me like you know what it's like, okay? I'm going to leave now."

He quickly took his place between me and the door and blocked my way out.

"Move, damn it!" I tried as hard as I could to control my emotions and not raise my voice.

"I'm not moving until you look at me."

I took a deep breath and raised my eyes to meet his. "Move!" I demanded.

"I'm sorry…"

"I don't care!"

"Joe, listen to me, this changes nothing. I invited you to stay for the weekend, long before I even thought about Googling you. I went to dinner with you and we had a great time without my knowing anything about your past. You impressed me, which is why I wanted to continue discussing business with you. The fact that I now know what happened to you changes nothing."

"It changes everything. I have to go, I'm sorry. I hope you sign with Nike, and I wish you well. Goodbye." And with that, I stormed out and left the building.

I had to get out of there, get away from him. I promised myself, when I stopped hiding from the world, that I would never let people feel sorry for me. I refused to talk about what happened, and everyone knew. Everyone knew, but him. I fought the tears with everything I had, until I reached my hotel room and broke down.

I failed, because I was too proud, I was too hard on myself. I didn't want him to take the deal because he felt sorry for me. As I lay there on the bed, the tears brought her back to me. My beautiful wife. She was the best part of me. She lived in my heart and in my mind, like she was right there next to me. With her, came all the memories that I locked in the darkest place inside my heart.

The memories of our wedding day and how pretty she looked in that white dress. Her smile that made my heart miss a beat, and her sweet soft voice when she said 'I do'. The memories of the day we found out she was pregnant, and how happy I was when she said the word 'Daddy'. The memories of a different life I lived as a promising young tennis player. The first trophy I ever won; the fame, the fans, and how invincible I felt every time I held a racquet in my hand.

All the things I had lost, in a split of a second, when I drove my car off the road. It all came back as I welcomed the tears and the pain that came with it. A tragedy in the tennis world, they wrote in the papers. The headlines still flash before my eyes, the pictures of me and Grace, her grave, her family's tears and their accusing looks. The phone calls. They all tried to get me to speak, but I refused and shut myself from the world.

I couldn't walk for four months and spent another eight months in rehab. I was forced to retire because the doctors said my body couldn't endure a tennis match. My shoulder was ruined; my hand and my back would never be the same, they said. I felt that my life was over.

Through all of it, all the pain, the tears, the suicidal thoughts, the one person that inspired me to get better was him. He recovered from a terrible injury and made it back. I watched his return to MSG in 2002, from my hospital bed, and it gave me strength to fight back and get better. He was my inspiration, and now he was just a guy who felt sorry for me.

The constant ringing of the hotel phone pulled me out of my comfortable misery. I knew it was him, and I knew he was probably down at the lobby.

I got up and answered the phone. "Mr. Astor, there's a lady here asking for you."

"Who is she?" I inquired.

"Her name is Stephanie McMahon," he replied.

"Put her on the phone, please."

"Mr. Astor?" Her voice was so gentle.

"Would you prefer to come up, or would you feel more comfortable at the bar downstairs?"

"I prefer to come up, if that's alright with you."

"Whatever you'd like…"

Stephanie McMahon. _He sent his wife, how surprising_, I said to myself.

The knock on the door came shortly after, and I opened it, to find her standing there with a little, awkward smile.

"Come in, please." I forced a smile.

"Mr. Astor, it's nice to meet you." She shook my hand.

"It's nice to meet you, too. Please call me Joe. What can I do for you?"

"I'm sure you know why I'm here," she stated.

"And I'm sure you know I didn't ask you to leave, because I respect you."

"I appreciate that, but if I could just have a few minutes of your time…"

I nodded before she could finish the sentence, and gestured to the couch.

She sat across from me and smiled. She had a soothing presence, one that could calm a person down and let him feel at ease. I sat down and she started, "My husband can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, and his constant need for knowledge drives me nuts sometimes. I know what he did, and he knows he was wrong. With that being said, you should know that before you had dinner last night, he came home and, really, he wouldn't shut up about you, to the point where I actually thought you were a woman and he had a thing for you. You impressed him so much that he couldn't wait to meet with you again and discuss business."

"I know all that," I admitted.

"Then why would you run away?" Her voice cracked.

"Because he crossed the line, and because he knows things I didn't want him to know. I refuse to make a living out of people's pity, and I will not take credit for a deal he signed because he felt sorry for me. If I wanted people to feel sorry for me, I wouldn't hide in an office down in Oregon."

"Paul was so sure you guys were going to become friends, even after he signs the deal, and now that I've met you, I can see why. You're just like him, you look like him with the hair and the stubbles, the way you walk and talk," she smiled broadly, "and you are a fan of his. He likes that about you. God knows, he doesn't have many of those. His character is not exactly a boy scout like Cena's."

"What's your point?"

"My point is, you wanted to get close to him, and it's obvious you would go on to become friends and you would've told him about your past at some point. The fact that he found out too soon and the way he did it, it was wrong, yes, he knows that, but is that really worth throwing away a huge business opportunity and a possible friendship?"

I smiled. She made some good points. "Are you always this articulate? Is that why he sent you?"

A mischievous smile suddenly appeared on her lips. "If my husband knew I was here, alone with you in a hotel room, he'd probably kill you. He doesn't know I'm here. I came because he told me everything, and I know he's beating himself up for it."

"I don't know, I need to think about this."

"Could you think about it fast and come to dinner at our house tonight? It will give you guys a chance to talk."

"I'll think about it."

"It's at 18:30. This is the address." She took out a note pad from her handbag and wrote something down.

"I'm not promising anything, okay?"

"You can maybe fool yourself, but you can't fool me. I'll see you later. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"You too."

* * *

**Reviews, criticism and suggestions would be much appreciated.**

**Thank you for reading.**

** :)**


	6. Chapter 6

******It's all about the GAME and how you play it! ****The rebel in the leather jacket. **I miss that guy.

**This is a first time for me**. I usually just read, because I love this site, and there are such talented writers here, so I decided, after years of reading, to write one and see if I can do it.

I know it's probably not the best time for Triple H stories, with the current storyline and all, but I can't help it, **I love him,** no matter what he wears or how he acts.

I guess I'm supposed to say that I do NOT own Triple H's character, so I don't own any wrestling character.

Special thanks to DrunkOnJerichohol.

Rated M, for language and future sexual content.

**- SLASH -**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

As I was getting ready for dinner at the Levesque house, Stephanie's words were all I could think of. We could become friends: me and the guy who meant everything to me. The guy who, without knowing, helped me get back on my feet and believe I could walk again.

The ride to Paul's house seemed longer than it was. I was nervous, because I didn't know what to expect. I stayed for the weekend, not just because of the deal, but because it was also an opportunity to get to know my idol. As I glanced at the road, my thoughts wandered back to his office earlier today.

The look in his eyes when he tried to explain his actions or apologize had something that drew me to him. Ever since I first saw him on TV, something about him just made it impossible to look away. As I gazed at the white line along the road, I wondered how he would react when he saw me.

Would he have that look I tried to avoid for so long, or would he just be his regular, charming self? One thing I did know was that after I allowed myself to cry today, it was going to be very hard to keep a brave face and be around people who knew about my past. I hoped it would be a quiet dinner and that he wouldn't try to talk to me about it.

The taxi pulled up outside their big house, and as I got out of the car, the big dog started barking at me and I grinned. It was so typical of this huge man to have a huge dog. The big mastiff wagged his tail and barked like crazy. The front door suddenly opened. "Joe," Stephanie called, "I'm glad you could make it." She approached me and smiled.

"Thank you for the invite." I shook her hand.

"You're welcome here anytime," she assured me.

I noticed a little, blond girl peeking from behind Stephanie's legs. "Hey there," I said kneeling down to meet her eyes, "my name is Joe. What's yours?"

"Murphy," she answered shyly. "Are you Mommy's friend?"

"He's Daddy's friend, sweetheart," Stephanie answered and smiled generously.

I reached my hand out to her and she came closer and gave me a hug. There was something about a kid's honesty and trust that always touched me. I was surprised by her embrace. It was like all she needed to know was that I was her daddy's friend, and it was enough for her to trust me and be so nice.

I picked her up and smiled back at Stephanie. "What are you girls doing outside?" we heard Paul call from inside the house.

Stephanie turned, and he noticed me standing there with his daughter in my arms. "Joe, what are you doing here?" I heard the concern in his voice as he walked up to us. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine," I assured him. "I was invited to dinner." I smiled and shook his hand.

He looked at his wife and put his arm around her waist. "And I see my little Smurfy likes you already."

"Daddy, can I show Joe my new daddy toy?" she pleaded, with her sweet voice.

"Sure, sweetheart, but after dinner, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy."

As we walked into the house, I put Murphy down and went to the kitchen with Paul. "So, how did this happen?" he asked, as he passed me on his way to the fridge.

"Why don't you ask your wife?" I smiled.

"Ask me what?" She appeared from behind us.

"How did you get him to come here?" he asked, as she sat on a stool between us.

"Does it matter? He is here, isn't he? Go get the girls, dinner is ready," she ordered.

"Yes, boss," he joked. "Come on," he said as I followed him up the stairs, "I'll introduce you to my little angels. Murphy you've met, and this is Rory…"

"Daddy!" She pouted.

"Okay, sorry, this is Aurora; she's a little shy and a little grumpy, as you can see."

"Hi, Aurora, I'm Joe. You have a beautiful name, so don't let daddy call you anything else." I shook her hand lightly.

"Thank you," she smiled shyly.

"And this is my latest creation, Vaughn," he said, picking her up from the crib.

"She's beautiful." I smiled and tickled her a little. She smiled back and babbled something that made us laugh.

"Okay, girls, dinner is on the table. Go wash up."

"Yes, Daddy," the two girls called.

As we walked downstairs, he stopped and turned to look at me. "I'm glad you came. There's a lot that needs to be said."

He searched for my eyes and when I looked up, I saw remorse in his eyes. I hoped he would let it go, but he didn't. "We'll talk later," I replied.

He put Vaughn on her chair at the dinner table, and we all sat down. Murphy asked Paul if she could sit next to me, and he nodded fondly as he exchanged looks with his wife. This girl was so sweet and friendly to me that it even took her parents by surprise. She asked for my help cutting her food into small pieces, and I did as I was ordered by the little princess. They smiled when I played her game and inquired as to how small she would like the pieces.

The little baby, Vaughn, refused her mother's help and insisted on eating on her own, but it became very clear to all of us that eating was not her intention as she picked up her little spoon and threw it at me. Stephanie was shocked, but Vaughn was just giggling. Paul immediately offered to get me a clean shirt, but I said that it could wait until after dinner. To avoid any further damage, Stephanie started feeding her daughter, and we all laughed at the angry look she gave her mother for taking control.

"So…Joe, how do you like Connecticut so far?" Stephanie asked.

"Well, I haven't seen much, but I'm not too fond of the weather." I smiled.

"Too cold for you?" She chuckled.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"Yeah, we know, you're a tough guy," Paul mocked.

"Like I said before, I learned from the best," I teased.

"And who might that be?" Stephanie asked curiously.

"Stone Cold," I replied, glancing at Paul to catch his reaction.

"Funny, I don't see you walking around with a bald head and a can of beer in your hand…" He gave me a hard stare. "All I see is a blond ponytail, a beard, and a leather jacket…"

"Are you trying to imply something?" I teased.

"Just that you are full of c-r-a-p," he grinned as he spelled the word.

"Okay, you two…" Stephanie tried, but Paul continued.

"And one more thing, I didn't hear glass breaking when you received a phone call in the middle of our meeting yesterday," he said, referring to Austin's entrance music.

I smiled at Stephanie and asked, "Is he always this sensitive?"

"At least you didn't mention the other guy's name."

"What guy? Rocky?" I smiled at him.

"Oh my God," she giggled, "you're playing with fire."

"No, I'm not. Rocky wasn't tough. I never liked him, and he was annoying."

"See, honey," she smiled at her cranky husband, "he never liked Rock."

"I'm glad you find this amusing," he muttered.

"I like him, honey. He's not intimidated by you."

"I think you're making him angrier than he was already," I joked.

"Come on, tough guy, let's get you a clean shirt," he insisted. I followed him with a scared look on my face, and Stephanie laughed at that sight. We went upstairs to his giant, walk-in closet, and he grabbed a black shirt. "This one's a gift from me. Sorry it doesn't say 'HELL YEAH' on the back," he said, throwing it in my face.

I looked at his 'CALL TO POWER' t-shirt and smiled. "Just so you know, I was joking about Austin and I only have Triple H t-shirts in my closet, just not in this size."

"Well, I'm big," he shrugged.

"Yeah," I smiled.

As I pulled my dirty shirt off, he closed the door behind him and stood just inches from me. I knew where this was going, and I wasn't sure I was ready for it.

"I'm sorry," he said, searching for my eyes.

"Please, Paul, let's not do this now," I said, almost whispering. "Let's just go back downstairs."

"I need to know that you're okay," he pleaded, as he put his large palm on my neck to get me to look at him. "The way you left my office, it made me feel bad. I can understand you were upset, but you have no reason to feel this way. You should be proud of what you've become."

"See, this is exactly what I wanted to avoid." I looked into his eyes. "I'm not fragile, you know. I don't want you to look at me like that, with those sad eyes, not you…" I begged. "Of all people, not you."

"I am not feeling sorry for you, so don't even go there. When I read everything, I felt bad that you lost everything you loved, but at the same time, I felt a great sense of pride." He smiled. "You were a star."

"Paul, please…"

"No, wait a second, I need to say this. You were a star, and after losing everything, you came back and made a life for yourself. The way you carry yourself now, look at you; you're tough, and you don't take shit from no one. I tried to rattle you when we met. I tested you, and you were calm, confident and so arrogant. I know you are not fragile, and I know you're talented. You were given the keys to a million dollar deal with WWE. I'd say it's a testament to how successful you are at such a young age. You should be proud of yourself…hell, I'm proud of you, and I only met you yesterday."

"Can we please not talk about this? Thank you for the kind words, but I really don't like talking about all this…"

"I understand," he smiled, realizing he talked too much. "I'm going to shut up now."

"Can I have some space now, to put the shirt on?"

"Sure, go ahead," he took a step back. "So, how many of those Triple H shirts do you have?"

"I think I have all your shirts."

"I had many shirts in my long career."

"And I have every one."

"Do you have any shirts of any other wrestlers, or just mine?"

"Well, I have the 'END OF AN ERA' shirt. Does that count for another wrestler?"

"Um...me and Taker is fine, you're allowed to have that one."

"Gee, thanks for the permission."

"Watch it, smart ass! Let's just go back downstairs."

As we made our way down the stairs, Murphy ran in excitement, holding a Triple H action figure. "Would you play with me now, Joe?"

"Sure, is that your new daddy toy?"

"Yes, come. You'll be John Cena, and I'll be Daddy."

"Can I be someone else?"

"No! I like Cena!" she exclaimed.

I grinned at Paul. "This must be killing you, ha…"

"Play nice…" He forced a smile.

"Don't you look adorable in that big shirt?" Stephanie laughed.

"Yeah, we've established that your husband is an ogre."

"Yes, but he's a sexy ogre," she ran her fingers through his hair and gave him a quick kiss.

"Okay, not in front of the kid, here," he joked.

"You know something?" Stephanie smiled suddenly. "I just had a great idea all of a sudden. Must be the McMahon genius gene."

Paul rolled his eyes. "What now, Mcgenius?"

She playfully slapped his arm and said, "Joe, would you like to come to LA next week, for SummerSlam? Paul has a match. You can be backstage with us and meet the wrestlers, if you like."

"Well, I have to say that's not a bad idea at all," he said, as he watched his daughter play with me.

"It sounds tempting," I smiled, "but I don't think I want to watch you lose to Lesnar."

"Nice try, smart ass. I'm not telling you the result."

Stephanie started laughing. "Nice try, Joe."

"It was worth a shot," I smiled and kept letting Murphy kill the Cena doll.

"So, what do you say; will you come?" Stephanie asked, curling up under Paul's arm.

"I'd love to. Thank you."

"Daddy wins. 1-2-3, Daddy wins," Murphy cheered.

"Of course Daddy wins," I smiled at her. "He's the best."

"Daddy is the best!" she repeated, with her hands held up high over her head.

"Okay, girls, time for bed. Go get ready, and I will be there in a minute. Say goodnight to Daddy and Joe."

"Goodnight, Daddy," the two girls kissed each of his cheeks. Aurora smiled at me and went upstairs, but Murphy gave me a kiss on the cheek and thanked me for playing with her.

After Stephanie went upstairs and we were alone in the living room, Paul looked at me and asked, "So…is this the effect you have on everyone you meet?"

"What do you mean?"

"My girls seem to really be taken by you. All 4 of them."

"What can I say, I'm a likable guy."

"Yeah, I guess you are," he smiled to himself.

* * *

**Reviews, criticism and suggestions would be much appreciated.**

**Thank you for reading.**

**:)**


	7. Chapter 7

******It's all about the GAME and how you play it! ****The rebel in the leather jacket. **I miss that guy.

**This is a first time for me**. I usually just read, because I love this site, and there are such talented writers here, so I decided, after years of reading, to write one and see if I can do it.

I know it's probably not the best time for Triple H stories, with the current storyline and all, but I can't help it, **I love him,** no matter what he wears or how he acts.

I guess I'm supposed to say that I do NOT own Triple H's character, so I don't own any wrestling character.

Special thanks to DrunkOnJerichohol.

Rated M, for language and future sexual content.

**- SLASH -**

* * *

Chapter 7

As I turned the key to my apartment door, I couldn't help but smile to myself. Something was different; something inside me shifted. I wasn't miserable, and I wasn't sad to walk into an empty apartment anymore. I was back in the real world, with my dog, alone with my thoughts, but there was no pain.

I was back in my apartment again and everything was just as I left it. My whiskey bottle and my cigarette pack were laid on the table outside on the porch. As I pushed play, Metallica was playing Nothing Else Matters. Everything was the same, but I was different.

It felt like I was alive again, not a shadow of the guy I once was. I believe the right word to describe the feeling in my heart was hope. A wind of sweet hope was washing away all the bad thoughts that choked me every time I walked into a dark and empty apartment. It was him; it was the work of one man.

My life as I knew it was changed. At that time, I didn't even realize it was just the beginning of a much greater change I would have to face. I met him. He was always 'him' to me, he was always Triple H. Now, he was so much more than just a WWE superstar, much more than just my hero. He had a face now, a name, a real character.

He was Paul now, a father and a husband. He was kind and generous, funny and easygoing. Not the crazy cerebral assassin, not The Game, not a king. He was just a man, with a family and an office job, who treated me like an equal **—**not like a crazy fan who had all his shirts, but a guy he let into his life and his house.

It felt good thinking about him. It felt even better to know that I was going to see him again next week at the Staples Center, at the biggest event of the summer. As I put my head on the pillow, I imagined the King of Kings giving the beast, Lesnar, a pedigree in the middle of the ring.

The phone rang and I opened my eyes to see 5 AM on the alarm clock. I reached for my phone to see who is crazy enough to call so early and smiled, as I read the name 'Paul Levesque' on the screen and answered.

"Good morning, kid. Did I wake you?"

"Is there any reason why I should be up at 5 AM?"

"5? Oh my God, I'm sorry, kid. I completely forgot about the time difference…"

"It's fine, I'm up. What's up?"

"Just calling to say hi." I heard paper noises in the background.

"Hi," I smiled, "early start at the office?"

"Yeah, listen, I wanted to ask you, are you coming for the weekend or just to the show on Sunday?"

"Will I get the full fan experience, if I come for the weekend?"

"What does that mean?"

"Will you sign my Triple H shirt, if I come for the weekend?"

"I'll sign your face with my fist, how does that sound?"

"Hey, that's not a way to treat a fan."

"Fan, my ass. Could you be serious for a minute and stop being annoying?"

"No autograph then…?"

"You went to so much trouble making a believer out of me and you keep acting like a kid."

"Because I asked you to sign a shirt I got as a gift from someone really special?"

"Ha ha, sucking up won't help here, kid."

"Fine. So tell me, what's the difference if I come for the weekend or just to the show on Sunday?"

"You're making me regret I called."

"Sorry, I haven't decided yet. I'm not a big LA fan."

"So…Sunday?" he asked and sighed.

"Yeah, I think so…"

"Okay, cool, so call me when you get to LA. I'll arrange a backstage pass for you," he said quickly.

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"It's nothing. I'll see you next week."

After he hung up, I looked at the phone, trying to grasp the fact that he just called me. He asked for my phone number when he dropped me off at the hotel, after that dinner at his house, and gave me his number. I guess I didn't really expect him to call me. I guess I thought he'd forget about Summerslam.

As I was making coffee, I thought about the way he sounded on the phone. He had the same voice, but something was weird. It felt like he called for more than just asking when I plan on coming to LA. I didn't put too much thought into it, though. After all, just to see his name on my iPhone was amazing. It's all I cared about.

I was getting ready to take Hunter for a walk when my phone rang again. The number on the screen didn't look familiar, but the voice on the other end was.

"Good morning, Joe," she said formally.

"Hi," I said, "good morning."

"I hope I'm not calling too early. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, you didn't, but your husband did, about two hours ago…"

"He forgot the time difference, didn't he?" I could sense she was smiling.

"That's what he said, but I think he just wanted to annoy me."

"I doubt it. He doesn't think about these things. So anyway, I didn't want you to think that the offer for Summerslam wasn't serious, and I'm calling to make sure you're still coming."

"I'm coming, thank you. Again, I appreciate this."

"It's nothing. Paul really likes you, and you're going into business with us, so it's only natural we'll host you at one of our shows."

"Thanks."

"Not much of a phone person, are you?" She sounded less serious now.

"I'm sorry, it's really all still very surreal to me."

"That's so sweet. Even after the business meeting and the deal, you are a fan."

"Paul doesn't think it's sweet. I asked if he would sign my shirt when I come to LA, and he said he'll sign my face with his fist."

She started laughing, "That sounds like Paul, alright. He's always been so humble about his fans. I guess it embarrasses him sometimes."

"I know. I was just messing with him."

"So, do you know when you'll be in LA? Do you want me to arrange a room for you at the hotel we're staying in?"

"That's too much, I can find a hotel. Thank you for the offer, though."

"I don't mind. It would be nice if you were close. You can spend time with us. Paul would love it and my girls would love it too, I'm sure. Murphy hasn't stopped asking about you. I think she will love to see you again."

"She is a sweet girl, and you were all very nice to me. I really can't thank you enough."

"It was our pleasure. We loved having you over, so I'm going to book a room for you at the same hotel we're staying in. Are you coming for the entire weekend?"

"I don't know, it's not like I have plans. I don't even like LA, and I don't know what I'll do there all weekend."

"What do you mean? You'll be with Paul, we talked about it yesterday. Didn't he ask you to accompany him during the weekend? He said you'll probably enjoy it."

"He didn't say anything about it."

"Well, there you have it. He probably felt bad about waking you up."

"I guess…"

"Anyway, my silly husband said he would love to have you around. You can watch the wrestlers train, and you can be with him when he signs autographs."

"He didn't mention any of that."

"He also said it will give you guys a chance to talk more about the project he was working on, to prepare you for the next meeting."

"Okay…"

"He'll probably call you later and talk to you about it."

"I'm sure he will."

"So, I'm booking you from Thursday night or Friday?"

"I think I can make it on Thursday. Can I call you back later today with a final answer?"

"I'll book you from Thursday, just to be safe. I'll send you a text with the details."

"Thank you, Stephanie. I appreciate this."

"You're welcome. I'll see you on the weekend."

After she hung up, one thing was clear: she wasn't the bitch-slapping Billion Dollar Princess. Everything about her was so different than I thought. She didn't act like a spoiled rich girl. She was down-to-earth and so pleasant.

Paul didn't call later. I thought about calling him, but I was really busy and never got around to it. It was nice to hear Stephanie talk about all the plans they had for me, but it was weird that he didn't say anything. I made a note to myself to call him the next day and tell him I will see him on Thursday. Emily was very excited for me and immediately called her kids to let them know Hunter is staying with them again during the weekend.

When I got home later that evening, I ordered some food and prepared for poker night with my friends. Monday nights were always poker and Raw. As I was getting ready for my friends, a text message came in.

_'Hey, kid, are you busy?'_

I smiled and texted right back _'no'_.

_'Can you talk?'_

_'Are you afraid to call? It's not 5 AM now.'_

The phone rang and I answered.

"So, I understand my wife spoke with you today," he said, in a stiff voice.

"Hi, hello, how are you, Joe? How was your day, Joe? No manners…" I joked, trying to break the ice.

"Hi, smart ass, how was your day?"

"My day was fine, yours?"

"Cut the crap and stop annoying me."

"Someone is a little grumpy."

"So, when I ask you to come for the weekend, you say no, but when Steph asks, you say yes?"

"Um, Paul, green only looks good on you when Shawn is around."

"What?"

"The green monster doesn't suit you."

"Ha ha…I'm not jealous. Is there a reason for me to be?"

"Not one that I can think of."

"So, what made you change your mind?"

"I didn't really change my mind. Your wife said that you had plans to spend time with me and show me around, which you said nothing about."

"I didn't want to badger you right after I woke you up."

"That's what I thought."

"So, is there anything special you would like to do while you're in LA?"

"I would like for Triple H to sign my shirt."

"I swear to God, if you bring this up one more time I'm going to…"

"What?" I interrupted him. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this? It's just one autograph."

"Forget it. Steph said you were coming on Thursday."

"Tell me, what's the big deal?"

"I'm hanging up now. I'll see you whenever you get to LA."

"Stop, Paul, come on. Why are you acting this way?"

"Because you're annoying. I don't remember you being like this a few days ago."

"I'm annoying because I asked you to sign a shirt?"

"Yeah, because you insist on acting like a fan, when I treated you like a friend and a businessman."

"Okay, can't I be all 3?"

"No."

"Okay, okay, I give up. I'll be a good boy."

"You are impossible, you know that?"

"So, do I get to be backstage when you come back, after your match with Brock?"

"I guess."

"Cool."

"Don't start again."

"What?"

"Have you ever seen me wrestle live?"

"Of course I have. I've been to the last five Wrestlemania shows," I said proudly.

"Is that right?" He chuckled.

"Yes."

"Did you like it?"

"I like when you win."

"I can't win all the time, kid."

"I know, but I hate it when you lose."

"The bad guys have to lose every now and then."

"I know, but you always want your guy to win, right?"

"Am I your guy?" he asked and I could feel that he was smiling.

"You always were."

"So, if I ask you to give me your top five wrestlers, I would be in the top?"

"Well, yeah, I guess…"

"You guess?" he started laughing, "Tell me your list; I'd like to hear it."

"Okay, top five: Taker, Flair, Austin, Shawn and you…in that order."

"Are you trying to suck up to me? Flair and Shawn?"

"You asked for my top five."

"I hope that when I show you around and introduce you to people like Flair and Shawn, you're going to act like a businessman and not a crazy fan."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to embarrass you."

"I hope not."

"So, I'll call you when I get to LA."

"Great, I have to go now. Enjoy Raw."

I didn't enjoy Raw, well I did, because Triple H was on, but I hated it when Lesnar broke Shawn's arm.  
After watching it, I was certain, Lesnar was going to break Triple H's arm at Summerslam, and I would have to watch my guy lose, again.

* * *

**Reviews, criticism and suggestions would be much appreciated.**

**Thank you for reading.**

**:)**


	8. Chapter 8

******It's all about the GAME and how you play it! ****The rebel in the leather jacket. **I miss that guy.

**This is a first time for me**. I usually just read, because I love this site, and there are such talented writers here, so I decided, after years of reading, to write one and see if I can do it.

I know it's probably not the best time for **Triple H** stories, with the current storyline and all, but I can't help it, **I love him,** no matter what he wears or how he acts.

I guess I'm supposed to say that I do NOT own Triple H's character, so I don't own any wrestling character.

Special thanks to DrunkOnJerichohol.

Rated M, for language and future sexual content.

**- SLASH -**

* * *

Chapter 8

I arrived at the LAX airport on Thursday evening. The first thing I felt as I stepped out of the terminal was excitement. I was looking forward to this weekend, to see him again, to spend time with him, to watch him wrestle again. It was just 3 months after I watched him lose to the Undertaker at Wrestlemania 28. In my heart, I hoped he would beat Lesnar, but I wasn't too optimistic.

On my way to the hotel, I thought about how I never liked Los Angeles. I grew up here, my family still lived here. There was nothing I liked about this city; it was too crowded for me. I remembered that the only thing that got me here the last time was when DX reunited and faced Legacy at Summerslam, back in 2009.

The same reason brought me back here again. I tried to call Paul, but there was no answer. I didn't feel that it was appropriate to call Stephanie, so I tried him again. A man answered this time, saying that Paul was busy and would call me back later.

I arrived at the Hilton hotel and checked in. Paul hadn't called me back, and I was starting to get the feeling that maybe I wasn't going to see him that night. I decided to order some dinner and take a shower. When I got out of the shower, I checked my phone, but there were no calls.

A quick look at the mini-bar suggested that I should end the night the right way, like any other night. I had nothing but a towel on, and as I stepped out to the porch, the air was cool; too cool for LA weather. With the little bottle of whisky in my hand, I lit up a cigarette and thought about how my guy, the great King of Kings, could beat The Beast Incarnate, Lesnar. In my heart, I was still a hardcore fan, every Monday night and every Sunday pay-per-view. I was a kid again, who just wanted his guy to win.

Yes, it was scripted and, yes, they always knew who was going to win the match, but they fought hard to make us cheer. As I thought about how many times I watched him lose, live, my phone suddenly came to life. The smile that the name on the screen brought to my face, as I listened to the words of the song screaming out of my phone, said it all. It was time to play the game.

"Hey, kid," he said, in a low voice.

"Hi, you sound tired. Is everything okay with you?"

"It's been a long day. You haven't called. Did you change your mind?"

"I called. Didn't that guy who answered tell you?" I asked, as I made my way back to the porch.

"No. Are you here at the Hilton?"

"Yes, I've been here for almost 3 hours."

"Okay, I think I'm going to have to fire that guy."

"You do that," I chuckled. "So, how was your day?"

"Busy…"

"Do you want to talk tomorrow?"

"What room are you in?"

"122," I answered, as I took a sip out of the small bottle. "You should get some rest, I'll call you in the morning."

"I'm fine. So, how was your day?"

"Same as always; work. Took my dog to my boss's house and came here."

"You will have to explain this to me: how the hell did you get your boss to babysit your dog?"

"I told you, her kids love the dog. They take good care of him when I'm away."

A knock on the door surprised me. I made sure my towel was tight and made my way to the door. "Hold on a sec, someone is at the door," I said, and opened it to find him standing in front of me, with a big smile on his face.

"You are here; I thought you were bullshitting me."

"What if I was bullshitting you? You just go out to knock on people's doors?" I smiled back.

"Then it would've probably been your last day on earth," he walked into the room. "I can't believe Barry didn't tell me you called."

"It's fine. I had time to eat and take a shower, which reminds me…give me a second, and I'll go put something on."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"I don't like to be naked around people," I said, as I made my way to the bedroom.

"Did you smoke just now?"

"Yes I did. You weren't here, so don't give me that look," I called, from the other room.

"How do you know what kind of a look I'm giving you?"

"The same one you gave me in the parking lot, after we had dinner at the Red Barn."

"Oh, right," he said as I came back, "you won't be needing these for the next few days." He smiled, and I noticed the cigarette pack squashed in his hand.

"Tell me you didn't just do that…"

"Oh, I think I did. I told you, no smoking when I'm around."

"You weren't around before, and you're not staying here tonight. Why would you do that?"

"Because that shit is bad for you. Same goes for the alcohol you have over there."

"Okay, Dad, I'm sorry I behaved badly. Please forgive me," I mocked.

"Make fun all you want, smart ass, but that won't bring back your precious cigarettes."

"So, what did you do today?"

"I did the 'Be A Star' thing, trained twice, and spent some time with my girls."

"Nice…and tomorrow?"

"Fans, autographs, meetings." He sat down on the couch.

"Sounds like fun."

"It is fun; anything for the fans."

"Yeah, but not for all the fans, right?" I sat next to him.

"Don't start, please. It's been a long day."

"Fine." I looked at him as he leaned back and closed his eyes. "I think you should get some sleep."

"Yeah." He opened his eyes and looked at me. "I didn't think it would be so nice to see you after you annoyed me on the phone the other day."

"You have the worst way of saying nice things."

"You know what I mean."

"I actually don't, but that's alright. Go get some sleep. You look awful."

He made his way to the door and turned to look at me. "Be down in the lobby at 8:30, and don't be late."

"Any special clothing required?"

"The Triple H costume is fine," he smirked.

"What, now?"

"Jeans and leather jacket should be fine."

"You are so freaking funny."

"I know."

"So, I don't have to wear a suit?"

"No, casual is fine."

"Is there any point in bringing my Triple H shirt for you to sign?"

"No point. Goodnight, kid, I'll see you in the morning." He closed the door behind him.

I scoffed as I made my way to the bedroom.

The next morning, I waited in the lobby for him. It all felt like I was living a dream. Last night, he came to my room as soon as he heard that I was there, and it made me feel a little important. The elevator doors opened, and I saw him with Stephanie.

"Joe," Stephanie smiled at me, "it's so good to see you again."

"It's nice to see you, too. Thank you for everything."

"Stop thanking me. Have fun today, boys." She kissed Paul and exited the building.

"Good morning, kid. Are you ready?"

"Yes, I am," I smiled.

"No leather jacket? I thought we could be rebels together."

"Ha-ha…let's just go."

People started screaming as we got out of the car. The place was packed with kids and grownups, men and women, boys and girls, and they all screamed his name. The autograph session took about 4 hours. As I looked at him, smiling and taking pictures with everyone, I couldn't help but admire the patience he had. He was kind and genuinely nice. He took his time with everyone, especially the kids.

People came and showed him their tattoos with his name and his face, and he was humble about it. It seemed like he really didn't understand the love they showed him. I was one of those kids, but I couldn't act on it, I couldn't tell him what he really meant to me. I couldn't tell him that I have a tattoo with his logo on my right shoulder.

I was a fan, sure, but to him, I was a businessman. That's how he saw me, and that's how he treated me. He refused to look at me as a fan. I didn't understand it, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Watching him interact with his fans brought back the old memories. I was a star in a different life, like he said. There were times when I was chased by fans, signed autographs on the street, giving interviews to reporters from all around the world. I felt like I needed a break. I needed to collect myself.

I went outside to smoke and clear my head. As I put the cigarette between my lips, I noticed a little kid crying, and his mother trying to calm him down. He was wearing a DX shirt and wristbands. I smiled. When I was growing up, I wasn't even allowed to watch wrestling. The kid's mother suddenly locked eyes with me. She had a look of defeat in her eyes, because her son would not stop crying.

"Why is he crying?"

"I promised him he would meet Triple H and take a picture with him, but we arrived a little late and the line is so long."

"Poor thing," I said, and looked at the kid. The way he looked inside at the people standing in line broke my heart. "Shouldn't you try to stand in line anyway? Maybe you'll get lucky, who knows."

"I doubt it. It's alright; we'll try next year."

As I looked at the mother, trying to comfort her son and make him stop crying, I thought about how my parents never did anything like that for me. I wanted to do something about it, but I was afraid that Paul wouldn't like it. By the time I finished my cigarette, I decided it was worth a shot. "Listen," I said to the mother, "let me write down your phone number. I may be able to help with that."

"Are you working here?" Her eyes lit.

"Not exactly, but I have access to Triple H."

"You're not just hitting on me?"

"Even if I was, you should be flattered. I don't know many guys who would hit on a mother, even if she looks as good as you."

"You're sweet, but that's okay. He'll stop crying eventually."

"Hey, you bought tickets and your son really wants this, so go inside. There's an area in the back, and it's restricted. Just wait there, and I'll text you."

"Do you really have access to Triple H?"

I smiled and assured her that I would try my best to get her son a photo with Triple H. She gave me her phone number, and I went back inside. Paul looked at me, when I sat down not far from him, and asked me to approach him.

"I need to take a break. Walk with me." As we started walking to the back, he asked, "You were smoking, weren't you?"

"I'm sorry, but, yes, I was."

"You're impossible."

"Hey, can I ask a favor of you?" I said, as we made our way to the back.

"What?"

"You need to promise not to be angry with me."

"What did you do?"

"When I was outside, I met a woman, and her son wouldn't stop crying, because they were late and the line is so long that there's not a chance he would ever get a picture with you."

"There's nothing I can do about it, kid."

"Come on, you should've seen him and all his DX merchandise. I felt bad for him. Maybe when you're done here, they could come here to the back, and you can take a picture with him?"

"Why is this so important to you. Was she hot?"

"Who?"

"The mother?"

"Come on, you can't be serious."

"I'm joking, alright, but just this kid. Don't go creating a new line here."

"I won't, I promise."

"Okay, wait here. I'll be back in a sec."

"Can I tell her to bring the kid now?"

"Make it quick!"

I immediately sent her a text message and told her to come to the back. A minute later, she came with her son.

"I really hope you didn't bring me here for nothing."

I smiled at her and leaned over to look at her son. He wasn't crying anymore. "Hey, kid, are you ready to meet Triple H?"

"Yes," he said shyly.

"Well, he'll be right here."

As I finished the sentence, Paul came out of the room, and the kid was shocked.

"Hi." Paul smiled at the mother and looked at the DX kid. "What's your name?" he asked the little boy.

"Oliver."

"I see you like DX, Oliver. How about we take a picture together?" Oliver nodded and Paul leaned down. "Let's take a picture DX-style."

He smiled at the boy and made the famous 'X' with his arms. Oliver did the same, and his mother took a few pictures and thanked us. I felt that my eyes were getting wet, and I tried to hold it. The look on Oliver's face was too hard to take. His eyes shined as he saw Triple H standing in front of him. I remembered how I felt the first time I sat at ringside and saw him.

I waved goodbye to them and went back to the signings with Paul. It felt good to know that this kid was happy and was going home with a photo of his favorite wrestler. When we got back to the hotel, Paul said he was going to change his clothes and head over to a meeting. I thanked him for the day, and he said he'd call me when he got back. I went up to my room and returned a few phone calls, to Emily and a couple of friends.

The knock on the door woke me up. My watch showed 9 PM. I had fallen asleep on the couch after I took a shower. I opened the door and smiled as Paul stood there, looking weird.

"Here," he handed me a brown paper bag, "I know you wanted this, so here you go."

"What is it?"

"Whatever it is, I don't want to hear a single word of it, ever." I looked inside, and he added, "You wanted one, now you got one. Let's just leave it at that."

"Thank you?" I said, in a questioning tone.

"You're welcome. Goodnight, kid."

He started walking away, and I closed the door. I looked inside the bag and grabbed the black fabric. When I realized what it was, I had the biggest smile a child could ever have, but at the same time, my eyes started to tear up. It was a Triple H shirt, signed and delivered by the King of Kings himself.

If ever I were close to feeling happiness, after everything that had happened to me, it was right in that moment, when I read the words: 'To Joe, my biggest fan and my friend. Triple H.'

* * *

**Reviews, criticism and suggestions would be much appreciated.**

**Thank you for reading.**

**:)**


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